I’m on my annual beach vacation so it’s all good. My day starts and ends when I say so and is filled with whatever I please. And what pleases me is sitting on the beach deck overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Since I have no office to go to, it’s about waking up when I want to, napping when I feel like it, and going to bed whenever I want. But it’s about more than just sleep.
It’s about bodies covered in SPF 30, tattoos, surgical scars, freckles, acne and sun burn.
It’s about men who sport socks with sandals and who take off their shirts to reveal their bellies while coughing wildly as they search for their cigar lighters.
It’s about women who are comfortable enough in their own skin to wear bikinis that accentuate their rolls while pulling potato chips out of a Lays bag and chasing each mouth full with a gulp of white wine from a clear Solo cup and a long drag from a skinny cigarette.
It’s about the blue sky dotted with kites, hungry seagulls and flocks of happy cedar waxwings.
It’s about weathered green lawn chairs holding colorful towels, the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy, gossipy tabloids and a National Geographic to make the pile look more worldly.
It’s about cans of Dale’s Pale Ale because glass bottles aren’t allowed on the beach deck.
It’s about the sound of palm trees blowing in the warm ocean breeze with sea grass and crashing waves singing back up.
It’s about dolphins playing in the low tide while beached jelly fish wait for the high tide to determine their fate.
It’s about the sun on your face, except for the part covered by your new tri-focal sun glasses.
It’s about following all of the rules (or not), even if I keep dyslexicly reading the one below, thinking it’s telling me to wear wooden shoes on the deck.
It’s about quality time with my parents who are just 8 months shy of their 50th anniversary.
And it’s about already missing the kitties and Doc B…